The Good Guy: Do's and Don'ts of The Dating World
by Seath
Summary: "You're watching The Good Guy: Do's and Don'ts of the dating world, with your host, Derek Hale!" Stiles definitely doesn't choke on his chips. No, mind you, his throat just happened to involuntarily contract as he swallowed. He needs to watch TV a lot more these days.
1. Chapter 1

**_recently i've been finding plot bunnies like this in my harddrive from years ago. I do have a sequel planned out for "Words to Me" but i've hit a writers block on that, sorry D:_**

 ** _this can be considered a one-shot, though i am planning to expand upon it when the inspiration strikes._**

* * *

"You're watching The Good Guy: Do's and Don'ts of the dating world, with your host, Derek Hale!"

Stiles definitely doesn't choke on his chips. No, mind you, his throat just happened to involuntarily contract as he swallowed.

"Stiles, are you all right?" he can hear Lydia say about the same time he feels her hand pat his back.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he wheezes, reaching out for his soda. "It's just that—wow. Wow."

Lydia's curious eyes turn to the TV, where, Stiles will have to admit it, a ridiculous good looking guy takes a step onto the set and smiles at the audience.

He swallows his drink greedily and sets the empty can aside, eyes still trained on the TV.

The host, Derek, continues to smile at the audience, clasps his hands together, and starts, "So, on the last episode, we talked about how guys usually say "I'll call you later" at the end of a date," he pauses and examines the crowd. A few guys snicker while others nod their heads. Derek snorts a little. "And we also talked about how that is just _a_ _cheap lie_."

This earns a chorus of agreement from the women in the audience, and Derek offers them a sympathetic smile, as if he's apologizing for the men that did this to them.

"Ugh. He's so right," he hears Lydia say, a sharp edge in her tone.

Stiles winces inwardly.

He has a gut feeling Jackson might have done this once or twice.

Well, more than twice, knowing Jackson.

But, then again, he could be wrong.

"Guys, don't do this. She might believe you and then feel bad because you didn't call. Even if you don't want to call her, telling her that you will is pointless. Just say that you had a great time—anything is better than an empty promise."

The shows goes on like that, with Derek giving out advice and answering questions from both the men and women in the audience.

Derek chooses that moment to hide his hands behind his back, forcing the leather jacket that he's wearing to stretch across his chest, highlighting the taut muscle underneath.

Stiles thinks he needs to stop eating his chips right now or he'll choke and die. He doesn't want his dad or anyone else for that matter to see the cause of his death on his death certificate because Stiles knows it'll say: "Death by Doritos."

And Derek is to blame if that were to happen.

Because all of Derek should be illegal.

The face.

The eyes.

The stubble.

The muscles.

Stiles is certain he can see Lydia's jaw drop from the corner of his eye when Derek turns around and the camera focuses on his, well, perfectly sculpted _ass_.

Stiles bites down on his lower lip when Derek looks directly at the camera and smiles, flashing him with his two front bunny teeth.

"We'll be right back with more after this break. Do stay tuned."

And then Derek _winks_ at him.

Well, the camera, actually.

But from Stiles' point of view, the wink is directed at him, and holy crap. He needs to watch daytime TV more often. He's been missing out on a lot.

"So," he hears Lydia say, almost teasingly, after a few minutes of silence. "New favorite show?"

If he didn't know Lydia as well as he does, he'd say that she's cheating on Jackson with some eye candy.

But he knows that the question is directed at him.

Stiles swallows thickly.

Lydia rolls her eyes at him.

And when The Good Guy comes back on, Stiles notices that Derek's shed off the leather jacket in favor for a gray henley to show off the rest of the package.

Yeah. He can see this show quickly make its way towards his top favorites.

It becomes a routine after that.

Whenever he and Lydia are home after work, they would lay out the snacks and drinks in front of them, turn off their cellphones, and enjoy the latest episode of The Good Guy.

Not that Lydia needs the advice. She has Jackson, after all. She just likes to ogle the Adonis that is Derek Hale.

And, well, Stiles needs the advice, and he gets to ogle at a fine piece of man at the same time.

So it's a win-win.

"Jackson can learn a thing or two from him," Lydia says as she reaches out for her water bottle.

"What? How to pick up other girls?" Stiles teases and moves away the moment he sees Lydia's hand fly towards him. "Hey!"

"I mean on manners, Stiles," Lydia explains, flicking Stiles behind the ear. "Derek clearly has manners."

Stiles cocks his head and thinks about it. Jackson really does lack in the manners department. It's almost as if he was raised by wolves. He laughs and shakes his head, "You're right."

Lydia smiles fondly at him and scoots closer.

It still amazes him that he and Lydia actually became friends, especially since Stiles had been crushing on her for most of his grade school career, but during his senior year, Stiles simply had given up on his chase and pursued a friendship with her. And since then it's been working out fine between the two of them.

"You two have a serious problem."

Stiles tries his best not to roll his eyes as Jackson saunters over towards them and plops down next to Lydia.

Seriously, why did they give him a spare set of keys to the apartment? All he does is come in, sleep, and eat their food like he owns the place. If you ask Stiles, Lydia can do so much better than Jackson.

"So do you," Stiles retorts, shoving his foot towards Jackson. "You can't stand the sight of people that are far more attractive than you."

And the prey takes bite of the bait.

"Watch it, Stilinksi," Jackson growls, making a move towards Stiles.

"Boys," Lydia says, calmly, eyes narrow. They both stop and stare at her. "The show is starting."

And with that, Stiles goes back to his position of the couch, leaning back on his seat with both legs up on the coffee table.

"Welcome back to another episode of The Good Guy: Do's and Don'ts of the dating world I'm your host Derek Hale," Derek says from the TV, and Stiles is sure Derek's smile is contagious.

Because he can feel the corners of his lips quirk upwards and tries to will it down before Lydia or Jackson take note.

Derek stretches his jacket across his chest every ten minutes and takes it off every time they cut for a break, Stiles notes.

He also notes that Derek uses a lot of hand gestures as he talks, pointing out in different directions with a grace that Stiles himself doesn't seem to possess.

And his eyes...oh god, Stiles doesn't know if they're green, gray, or a mixture of both.

But he knows one thing, though.

He likes them. A lot.

"And remember, guys," Derek says and points a finger at the camera before clicking his tongue. "Always be the good guy."

"You heard that, Jackson, always be the _good guy_ ," Stiles repeats, pointedly staring at Jackson.

And before Stiles feels a body crash into him, Derek winks and smiles at him.


	2. Chapter 2

"You know what I hate about this job, Stilinski?"

Left. Right. Sleeve up and small folds. Fold the length, place the pins and voila. Stiles grins at a job well done. He glances over to the other side where Jackson seems to be having a fight with a pile of shirts. "Is it your personality, cause let's face it. It _kills_ the sales."

Jackson actually _snarls_ at him and throws a shirt. "No, idiot. I hate how messy people can be. Look at this shit! Refolds everywhere, and oh. You're getting the go-backs before we close. I did it last week."

Messy, really? Coming from the man that leaves nacho crumbs all around the apartment. He even found a week old burrito from Chipotle behind the toilet once. And as much as Stiles loves burritos, he doesn't order his burritos with extra guac.

"You're such a diva, Jackson. I think Lydia is rubbing off on you."

Jackson's eyes go all starry like and the biggest grin begins to lift the corners of his mouth.

Stiles isn't sure whether or not to take a picture. He is on shift after all, and he doesn't want to lose this job as much as it sucks. Let's face it, no one wants to work in retail but a job is a job. But the face Jackson makes at the mere mention of Lydia's name is endearing—it loses all the edge and grr of the whole "look at me I'm a douche" attitude Jackson's been carrying since he can remember.

He kinda also wants to blackmail Jackson with it, but it'll have to wait. Refolds to be done, go-backs that must be sorted. Oh the _joy_.

"Are you two almost done?"

Stiles grins and turns around as a cart full of shoes comes to a stop at the front of the Men's section. "Why almost my dear Erica, almost. I take it Shoe department finished turning them bad boys?"

Erica tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear and snaps her fingers in a Z. Both he and Jackson share an unimpressed look before turning it to Erica. "Obviously, loves. Shoe department is always three steps ahead."

"Right," Jackson says and Stiles turns to look at him. Whoa, Jackson looks all fired up for no reason.

Oh.

 _Oh._

This can't be good.

Erica looks awfully delighted with herself as she pushes the cart into the backroom. Stiles swears up and down that she is pure evil.

A badass. Evil. Blonde head who takes no shit from no one. No really, she chased down someone who stole a pair D&G sunglasses from the display three days ago.

In _heels._

Oh, right. Jackson.

"Hey, buddy. Why don't I help the last customer on the floor and come back to help you out so we can close the section early?" Stiles isn't quite sure what made him phrase it as a question.

It could be that Jackson has successfully stopped bitching and is a refolding machine.

Or the fact that Erica came to taunt them on their _section_ and succeeded in baiting Jackson.

Either way, Jackson's affirmative grunt works just as good as a verbal answer.

Stiles places the pins on Jackson's side and makes his way through the floor.

Humming to himself, Stiles gets closer to his target. From what he can tell from looking at his back is that the customer is tall, muscular with a bad case of bed hair. Or mussed, maybe. Either way, it totes work for him. Stiles approves.

"Hey! I couldn't help but notice you've been eyeing this section of shirts for a while, is there anything I can hel—" no fucking way.

Stiles feels as if his world stopped spinning.

No. Fucking. Way.

There in the flesh is the Adonis, the man and legend, the man who Stiles has fantasized about doing unspeakable things to, Derek Hale.

And—"Holy shit you wear glasses."

Derek furrows his brows and gets this nice shade of reddish pink at the tip of his ears and just a tinge of his cheeks. "Uh…what—uh, excuse me?"

"Oh, lord. You're cute—and I just said that aloud, didn't I?" Well, fuck.

Stiles can officially say this is the most embarrassing thing he's ever done. And it doesn't include mooning all the football team during his junior year.

To his surprise Derek laughs, warm and inviting. "Yeah, you did," and just as Stiles grabs his face and begins to take two steps back, Derek continues. "Don't worry about it. It's fine."

Stiles lets go of his face and stares. "Really?"

"Yeah… I, uh, kind of need help," Derek says low, sheepishly.

Stiles grins, wide and bright. "Well aren't ya glad I came around? Best SA, you'll find at this store."

There's no way in hell that he's giving up this chance to be around Derek freaking Hale. No even the murderous intent he's feeling that can only be Jackson's stare.

Derek's face breaks out into genuine smile and, fuck. Can this man get any cuter? He grabs a shirt and pseudo tries it on. "Can you tell me what brand this is?"

Stiles takes the shirt off Derek's hand and examines it. He isn't entirely sure how to say it. It looks Italian or maybe French, but he rolls with it. "Flugashi."

* * *

"Shut the fuck up."

Stiles mocks offense and drops next to Lydia on the couch. "Lyds, I swear it was Derek Hale."

Lydia, mouth open wide and eyes bright, begins to switch the channels. "Shut the _fuck up_. What shirt did he even buy?"

"You know that one hella expensive brand, Rugratsi?" Stiles places the bowl of nachos between them, looking around for Jackson. Yup, nowhere to be seen today. Good riddance.

"It's Bugatchi, by the by," Lydia declares, smugly as she lands on the target channel. The intro to _The Good Guy: Do's and Don'ts of The Dating World_ just started.

"Yeah, that whatever. You had to be there. Lyds, I swear the fabric hugged his body like—oh shit look, he has it on!"

There on the screen, Derek comes running towards the stage, eyes bright and armed with an inviting smile. And on top of that, the black and red shirt that he bought that night.

Quite a sin to the TV world, having something so fitly close to the body.

Stiles can't help but feel a sense of pride. That yeah, Derek came to him for help. And yes, Stiles chose that specific shirt to highlight Derek's chest.

You are _welcome_ world.

"Text me next time he comes to the store," Lydia says a little too high pitched.

They high five. "Hella."

Derek winks at the camera and begins the show.


End file.
